


Thanks for the Rescue, I Guess

by somebodytoldme



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: BB-8 hates everyone, Ben is a man child, Ben is useless in a good way, F/M, Finn is just wondering what is going on, Lots of sarcasm, Poe is just happy to be here, Rey is a badass, Rey is a bounty hunter, Slow Burn, alternative universe, eventual angst, lots of rolling of the eyes, lots of sass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2018-11-13 14:32:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11187105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somebodytoldme/pseuds/somebodytoldme
Summary: Rey is a bounty hunter who will do any job for the right price. Someone hires her to hunt down and rescue Ben Solo from some dark-side fanatics, sharp objects, and himself. Mostly himself.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Alternative summaries for this work are -
> 
> Ben is a thirty-year old pacifist and masochist(?) with a smart mouth and a lot of Daddy and Mommy issues who doesn’t want to go home. Also is a trouble magnet, that too.
> 
> OR 
> 
> Rey accidentally collects a bunch of idiots on an antique junk-pile of a freighter. And accidentally they become a family.

There is the jingling of keys, and the sound of creaking wood as, on cue, a rat-faced jailer descends into the cellar, or rather, prison. Traditions, rituals, all these conservative matters were so obsessed over in this place – that the best they could do for a cell was a glorified wooden crate under padlock and key.

The sound signaled the prisoner to attention, stooped over, as the crate didn’t allow him to rise to full height. It was that sound he was so trained to, like that of a dinner bell ringing an oncoming feast – this was marking the start of a beating. They happened twice daily, one in the morning, one in the evening.

Most would consider this a sober event, but the prisoner had a mischievous glint in his eye as the jailer approaches, “You’re late, Olar, I was almost worried that you forgot about me.” Olar ignores the comment and promptly unlocks the cage. The man dwarfs Olar, who is skin in bones hidden in an equally ancient robe. “Come, Kylo,” he says and proceeds down the hall without a care, knowing his prisoner will follow him.

“It’s still _Ben_ ,” Kylo says, more to himself than to the priest. But he follows. He is lead into a dirty, dingy room with all natural light sapped from it. Only the light from flickering candles remained, and a circle drawn in the dirt floor which _Ben_ steps into the center of. There is an audience today, he realizes once his eyes adjust to the severe lack of light. Skinny men sitting around the outer edge of the circle, murmuring so mumbo-jumbo about the dark side or whatever.

A pale creature enters the circle, the leader of this dark side loving cult, although he gives the appearance of never seeing daylight, once, he was much healthier and stronger than his counterparts. It was as if he stole all their energy, power, youth and used it as his own. “Kylo Ren, it appears your spiritual awakening is _behind_ schedule…” His voice is sooth like silk, dark and dangerous. Tempting…. Ben shudders the thought away. “Therefore, today, we shall have to make up for lost time,” he gestures and one of his followers run forward with a wooden plank.

Ben breathes, tries to calm the hammer of his heart. _Fear, anger, desperation… All paths to the dark side_ whispers the voice in his ear, one that sounds much like his uncle’s. One he tries to ignore, just like he tries to ignore the first blow that lands harshly on his bruised flesh. He didn’t know anything of Jedi, dark-side, or the force. He was Ben… Ben Solo- no, images of his mother, father… No, he is not a Solo either. He is just Ben.

\----

Nobody crosses Rey. Nobody crosses her and lives. Anyone who has or will do business with her knows this. It is something she _makes_ sure they understand.

Which is why she is especially pissed. Pissed – that a green horn, a rookie, has the audacity, the balls, to steal from her. She had been searching for this piece of trash slave trader, with a very, very high bounty, mind you, for months. And it was when she had missed him, by the skin of her teeth, that she came across another bounty hunter by the name of Javi.

Now, Rey had rules and she didn’t allow anyone or anything distract her when she was on a hunt. But she had literally _run_ into Javi, and there was something about the kid that reminded her of herself. Something of how _green_ he was, how determined he was, how _persistent_ he was about boarding her ship for he was ship less and in pursuit of the same enemy. Despite her better judgement, she let him convince her into cutting a deal. The bounty was high, plenty, split seventy-thirty. The higher cut would obviously be hers – it was her ship and her guns in pursuit.

And they had found the target between a feud with fellow slave traders – and in the chaos of capturing him alive from those who would prefer him dead, Javi stole her target and flew away in a tiny ship. However, the idiot forgot to jam his transmissions, and so he was very easy to track. And that was how she ended up at the docks a particularly cold planet, the heaters hissing on either side of her as she waited for victim. Toying with the blaster, impatiently, strapped to her waist.

When Javi landed and stepped off his dock to peer around, he had the sense to look paranoid. Good. It satisfied her to watch him scurry like a rat back into the ship he had stolen for her prize. He was cautious, in escorting his prisoner towards a bar, likely the meeting place of the highest bidder. She followed.

Rey was patient, despite the desire to jump in and be done with the job, she knew from former experiences things had to be done at the right time. So, she laid in wait, at the other end of the bar, hood drawn down over her face. It was only when the buyer revealed themselves, that she made her move.

She was quick, quick to come up behind Javi, and press her blaster into his left kidney with enough pressure that he could not mistake what it was. He gasped, and the buyer’s eyes narrow, but made no move to leave. Good.

“I believe you two her negotiating the price of _my_ bounty.”

The buyer inclines their head, unaffected, perhaps used to his scramble, “Indeed miss’is.”

Javi shudders, and she presses the pistol into his back to reassert who has control of this situation. “Rey, please, please, I can explain what happened was I was afraid that the target would get away again is all…”

The bonded slave trader snorts, “That’s not what you said earlier, boy.”

Rey taps down on the surge of anger at the lie, but she knows better. She knows she shouldn’t kill here, this is neutral territory and a dead body, a dead idiot, would complicate things. Put a bounty on her. She has no interest in such things. “Easy, Javi… I’ll deal with you _later_ , after I get _my_ money.” She pockets the blaster and moves to sit next to the buyer, knowing Javi would be smarter than run from fate.

It would appear she was wrong. Because just as the credits are being counted, there is a forceful impact on her left temple. Glass shatters on her temple, alcohol stinging the fresh cut on her check. When she gathers her bearings, she sees Javi making a run for it. She pursues with fresh anger, fury, she sees red. She takes him down, pinning him down, blaster pulled from her belt and pressed into his temple. She wants blood, forget the bar’s rules, forget the bounty on her head… Her head pounds, her heart pounds.

And it scares her. She looks down at Javi’s petrified face, young and desperate. There is no fire in his eyes, just defeat. She was wrong, he is _nothing_ like her. A young, wild girl with stars, suns burning in her soul – unbroken. She forces a breath, forces the tension out of her arm, letting the blaster lax on his skin. He looks up with a spark of _something_ and that pisses her off and so she hits him with the butt of her pistol. He is out, cold.

She stands, feeling shaky on her own feet. The crowd parts around her as heads back over to the bar. The bartender wordlessly hands her a cloth to which she presses to her temple. She looks at the buyer, who regards her curiously, “Interesting display.”

“He’s kriffing lucky he still breathes,” She snaps as she pockets her pouch the buyer offers.


	2. A Request

Sand grates on her course skin, her lip splits and the metallic taste and smell of blood overwhelms her senses as it trails down her chin. “I’ll get you for _this_ ,” she hisses, wiping the blood, but consequently smearing it across her jawline, “I’ll make you _pay_.” She promises him, his unnerving laughter echoing in her mind as she is tied off and dragged away.

Rey wakes up in the dark and shudders. _Space is cold_. Her hands fly to the blaster attached to her hip, and the cool metal of it soothes the memory of hot sands in a faraway place. She breathes in deeply, the nightmare washing away into mere echoes. She sits up and pulls on a pair of soft leather boots, before heading out to check her whereabouts.

As soon as she exits her bunk, she is greeted by a little BB unit who chirps insistently, following her closely to the cockpit. She plops down in the seat and checks the coordinates-- just twenty minutes away from their destination.

“Not long now,” she says, leaning back in the chair, as the ship seems to shudder in some agreement. It had been a long trip, and she’d have to refuel and refill her supplies once she landed.

The little droid chirps and whirs around, clearly showing its excitement. 

“Yes,” Rey says thoughtfully, turning in her chair, “I just hope this job is worth it.”

She had got the request sent to her, _personally_ , for a meeting for a _job_. Rey was, for lack of a more flattering word, a bounty hunter. She tracked people down, and she liked to think she was good at it. But, surely, she wasn’t good enough to go through all the effort. And, this job was already so _secretive_ , meeting on a rather deserted planet just to her the details of the job with no guarantee of whether she’d take it. But, oh, she would likely take it. See, Rey took _any_ job, if it paid enough… And if they could afford to go through all this trouble just to speak with her, they were loaded. Her curiosity was peaked.

\---

She lands on a patch of soft grass. This planet was so green and lush, that something still tightened in Rey’s chest as she stepped off the dock and took in her surroundings. This was just like the places she had dreamed about.  
  
“How is _that_ _old bucket_ still _flying?_ ”

Rey turns sharply to the astonished voice, face flushing with anger, ready to defend her dear ship. She had put it back together, piece by piece, and even made a few upgrades over the years with her spare budget. That ship was her life, her freedom, and she’d be damned if anyone dared call it names. “It’s an _antique,_ ” she says defensively, crossing her arms.

The girl at the bottom of the ramp flushes, rushing quickly to cover up her tracks, “I’m _sorry_ , I didn’t mean- It just is so old? I mean, it is impressive, really, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything… I just don’t think before I speak and-” She pauses and straightens, as if to reset herself she offers a salute, “Jessika Pava, at your service.”

Rey bites back a smile, feeling just a pang of empathy, she found herself liking the girl. She shrugs it off and crosses the distance, falling into step with Jessika. “Well, Pava, I assume you _aren’t_ who called me?” Too young, too idealistic to be calling in a bounty hunter.

“No, I’m to escort you…” She looks a little sheepish at the blaster attached to Rey’s hip. “And check you for weapons.”

Rey pauses a step, giving the girl a terse smile, “The blaster stays.”

Pava shares a look, and given the stubborn line in Rey’s face, knows it’s not worth arguing at this point. “The blaster stays,” she repeats not missing a beat.

\---

Pava escorts Rey into a small house. By the looks of it, the clear lack of general clutter or signs of life, it had been abandoned for a long time. But it was off the grid, and by all the trouble they went through to get her here, she wasn’t surprised this was a hush-hush request.

They enter the kitchen where a small woman, but by no means small in presence is seated at a dusty table. She had a stern face, and graying hair pinned up in a bun. She was dressed in common clothes that didn’t quite suit her, by the way she held herself, she would have been better suited in uniform. As she stood her gaze flickers to the blasters still strapped at Rey’s waist, but if she had any qualms she did not voice them. “You must be Rey.”

“You must be the one who called?” Rey says, feeling a little nervous under the woman’s scrutiny. She rarely gets nervous, or dare she think it _intimidated,_ anymore. She refuses – after being beaten down her whole younger years. But there is something unseen, some energy surrounding this woman that is suffocating. She puffs out her chest.

The woman simply smiles, “Indeed, please have a seat.”

Rey is seated across from her at the table in the quaint home. There is a window to their right, letting in warm light and the sound and smells of the green jungle just outside. It lets in a cool, comforting breeze, and Rey silently ponders who might have lived in this quaint house and why they would ever leave…

“The families here were all forced to flee their homes, back when the First Order was still raiding planets…”

Rey straightens up, looking to the woman, wistfully gazing out the window. Then she realized that they were alone now. “Unfortunate,” she says, trying to keep the longing from her voice.

She gives Rey a sad smile, “Indeed. But I didn’t bring you here to talk about the First Order.” She shifts in her seat, “Forgive me, Rey, for being cryptic up to this point. My name is Leia Organa, and I am a General for the Resistance.”

Rey stiffens, she knew the woman was military… But she actively tried to avoid ties with political sections, it only ever led to more trouble.

Leia calmly raises her hand, “Please, hear me out… I did not call you here on the behalf of the Resistance. I have a personal request, for which I am willing to pay a great deal of money.” She clasps her hands on the table, “I shall give you the opportunity to walk away now. Or you can hear the job. But if you refuse the job I offer, you must not tell a soul the details of this mission, myself, or my whereabouts. Understood?”

She considers walking. Going back to her ship, and plotting the course to the closest, populated planet to refuel. But she _did_ need the money. And a General…. Surely would offer a lot. And it was worth it to, at the very least, hear what the job was. She was intrigued. “I understand… What is it that you need?”

“I need you to find someone, and bring them back to me.”

\---

Recon is easy, usually. It all boils down to pay the right people, beat the truth out of the others. But in this case, the fact that this job aligned so closely with the Resistance, Rey had to be more careful. She had enough enemies, enough troubles, without becoming one of the First Order’s most wanted. Besides, Leia had stressed keeping things as off-the-grid as possible. And the promise of such a big paycheck, was something Rey was not willing to give up. It was enough that she could, maybe, settle down… That abandoned house, warm and full of potential, still haunted her daydreams at times.

They land ship on another miserably dry planet. Rey pulls out her scarf and wraps it expertly around her face, more for confidentiality than the grating sand. BB-8 chirps excitedly behind her was she heads to the unloading dock. “No, you have to stay here, lock the ship behind me.”

The droid makes a disapproving chirp, but does as asked. It wasn’t like it would be allowed in the bar anyway. Droids were unwelcome. Too much shady business, too many chances to steal or get stolen from.

Rey enters the bar, and immediately orders her usual. She came to this spot often because it was one of the best places for information. Or a new job. She knew the owner, Raoul, who had taken a liking to her when she first arrived. Back then she was scrappy, and vastly unprepared for the world before her, but had a hungry look in her eyes.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Rey, back for more.”  
  
Rey smiles, spotting Raoul, whom is leaning against the backside of the bar with one arm posed dramatically at his waist. He was a thin, dark skinned man in his forties. “Always.”

Raoul grins, and straightens up to make her drink. She takes the opportunity to scope out the bar around her. Glancing up only as Raoul gently sets the glass down on the counter. “Didn’t know you had a soft spot for scavengers, Rey,” he says softly enough so that it is only the two of them that share that comment.

Her blood chills at the statement. She holds his gaze; his small eyes were black and cold. Thing about Raoul was, he was playful enough, generous even, to those he favored. But he was also coldblooded, snake-like in that he could just as easily turn around and strike you in the back if he so pleased. He was terribly good at collecting information, he must have had hundreds of contacts across all systems. And he kept dirt on everyone. It was no surprise that he had heard about her fight with Javi.

“Not many people dare call me soft, these days,” Rey says, sipping her drink.

Raoul laughs, appeased, “Is that a threat, dear Rey?”

“Only if you want it to be,” she calls and catches his smile as he turns his attention back to his other patrons. She contemplates Javi’s fate, for a moment, over her drink before returning to business.

Leia had to told her that the person she was looking for had been kidnapped. More specifically, he was taken by this cult of Dark-side fanatics. It was a bunch of mumbo-jumbo that she didn’t care to listen to or understand. All she knew was that the person she needed to find was named Ben Solo.


	3. A Short Escape

It is a particularly cold morning. Or maybe he is just too hot. His skin boils and aches, not given the proper opportunity to heal over the past… week? Month? Year? He isn’t even sure how long he’s been here now. He has lost track of time. The total lack of light in this place makes it impossible to count the days fully. A few lonely lines were scratched into the wood of the crate, a half-assed attempt that quickly ended when Ben received a rather painful splinter (little bugger). The only thing that remained constant was the bells. And the rituals or beatings.

They hoped by weakening the flesh, they could reach his mind. They could tempt him. A cruel part of him, one he tries to ignore, comments on how it is not so different… The light and the dark. Two sides of the same fate. One, he will gladly avoid, keeping it locked far away. Forgotten. He could almost laugh at his own madness. Feeling freer here, trapped, tortured than he ever did in his uncle’s studies or his mother’s courts. Insane, they would call him. He couldn’t help but agree.

But something lingered on the edges of his mind. A shift. It is faint, a weakened sense – like a muscle that he hasn’t used in so long. The Force has moved. It aches in the back of his mind, he ignores it. What it could be – no longer matters to him.

Bell rings. Keys jingle. He stumbles to his feet, relieved if only to be able to stand to full height outside of the cell. He stretches his back, winching at the sharp jab of pain that follows. Too familiar, a sore reminder that this is real… It is very grounding. He almost appreciates it, as he grits his teeth, the world becoming sharper. The echo in his mind becoming stronger. Odd.

He is forced down to his knees in the dark room. The room spins, and he realizes he hasn’t drank anything in at least a day. He feels lightheaded, dangerously faint. The world spins around, and for a moment he can swear he can see himself. He sees his form, bowed down in the dirty floor. It comes from across the room, he determines… from one of the hooded figures.

Olar raises the beating stick above him, and just then red-light bursts and there is a high-pitched ring. Like a bursting sun, Ben thinks, somewhat deliriously, his more sensible self identifying it as a blaster. Olar’s dead weight falls upon him, and he can almost feel the life force drift away from the shell of a body. That muscle, so weak, falls under the strain. And he sees or hears no more.

Ben Solo does not bear witness to the scene before him. He does not see the dark cloak cast to the side, revealing a triumphant looking woman with a bold smirk. He doesn’t hear the cries of his capturers as they quickly flee the scene in cowardice.

\---

Ben wakes to hands on his ankles, and the sensation of his boot sliding down his heel. There is a great scuff as one of boots slip free, and instantly his legs are dropped to the ground again. He groans in response, “M’not dead yet… Still need those.”

The boot is thrown onto his chest, he grunts in surprise. “Good, as long as you are awake, you can walk yourself to the ship.”

He blinks, looking at the girl sat in front of him on the dirty, dim cult room. How peculiar… The blast, and Olar’s death. It must have been her doing, though it seems hardly possible from her small stature. “Why were you stealing my boots then?” he teases.

She isn’t amused, she glowers at him, “I wasn’t _stealing_ anything. I was trying to move you to the ship, since you conveniently passed out.”

“You’re the one who dropped a body on me,” he gestures to Olar who lays an arm’s length away, apparently, she hadn’t been able to move him very far.                                                

“Just put the damned boot on and let’s go before they return.”

\---

Finding the enclave was the hardest part. It took over a month, even with the information that she was able to acquire through her connections. It was tedious, but she supposed that was why Leia, a General of the Republic was not able to easily locate Ben Solo. Of course, he would not be easy to find.

She found it on a moon to an unpopulated planet on the outskirts. The enclave was based in a natural cavity within the moon’s surface, carefully chiseled away over time to have narrow and dark passageways that winded deep down. She followed the path inside, hid in the shadows to observe for a while. And when some of the cult followers dispersed she followed one – catching them off guard. She knocked them out and stole their garments.

When it was time for the ritual she carefully waited in the back, only taking a seat when an empty space was revealed. Waiting and watching, as a skinny rat faced man returned with a giant. Or, at least, he looked like a giant in comparison to the tiny, thin boned Sith lovers. It must be Ben Solo. He was compliant, immediately kneeling, bowing his head. Long, dark hair falling before his pale face, it was obvious he had been her a while. She must wait for the right opportunity.

But something twists in her gut as she watches his nose almost touch the ground from where he is bowing. When the small man raises the staff over his head, to bring down, her hand twitches to her side… Before she knows it, the blaster is warm in the palm of her hand, and the body drops onto Ben, who collapses under the pressure. She swears under her breath at her lack of patience, and chaos erupts in the ritual den. Rey rips the cloak from her shoulders.

\---

  
Ben puts the shoe on as requested. He may be crazy, but he isn’t delusional enough to stay here. He staggers to his feet; a hand gently steadies him. “Who are you and what are you doing here?” It seemed all to convenient that she should appear in this desolate place.

She steers him sharply down the corridor, “Rey, I’m here rescuing you.”

It didn’t take a genius to connect the dots. Leia. His heart drops. He cannot return. He stops, Rey suddenly jerked to a halt as well. She glances back, “What makes you think I wanted to be saved,” he smiles a bit of mischief at the confusion plainly on her face, “even by someone as lovely as you, dear?”

There are a few beats of silence. Ben is a breath away from backtracking. But Rey’s face turns severe, “Not my problem, _sweethear_ t.” Her hand twitches at the blaster on her side, and he thinks for a second that she is contemplating shooting him. He doesn’t get to find out because there is a cry, and from the dark emerges angry, pale faces with sharp implements.

“Get to the ship, or I’ll kill you!” Rey cries running down the corridor. Ben doesn’t hesitate to follow, arguing that it was more likely they would before she had the chance.

\---

Rey and Ben ran through the twisting corridors toward the ship. When their boots barely meet the boarding ramp, she demanded that it close. She was thankful that she had instructed BB-8 to ready the ship for take-off. Secure, inside the ship, they both tried to catch their breath from the full-on sprint.

Outside was the sound of clunking as the followers desperately bashed their arcane weapons against the hull of the old freighter. It is an awful sound, but it is pointless. They are soon deterred as the heat of the engines blast them away. And BB-8 begins the sequence to sail away from that blasted moon.

“Well done BB-8!” Rey calls from the dock, still clutching her side. Though, Ben does not seem to be doing much better. Though one of his strides could easily equal three of hers, she can imagine he was not in good shape… Given the months of captivity. Her eyes drifted to the thinness and paleness of his face. He still appears to be struggling to catch his breath.

“You don’t wish to be rescued?” The question blurts itself out. Something she didn’t even really mean to ask. It didn’t matter anyway.

He looks on the verge of saying _something_ , significant. But instead comes a defensive quip. “Rescue, you call _that_ a rescue – dropping a dead man on me, stealing my boots, threatening to kill me if I didn’t follow?”

Rey rolls her eyes, losing her patience with him. “I am taking you back to the General Organa,” she announces as she goes to punch in the coordinates.

Ben scurries after her, speaking with urgency now, “I must _insist_ that you _do not_ return me back to the Resistance.”

Rey pauses, jutting out her hip in irritation, “Oh yeah, and why should I do that? I’m getting paid for your return.” She contemplated him for a moment, “conscious or not.”

Ben scowled at the poorly veiled threat, “I could get you money. A lot of it.”

“ _Could_ is not good enough to guaranteed cash… And it is a good sum.” It was indeed enough that she could potentially retire. Buy a nice place to settle, maybe… Maybe it was time to finish her crusade across the galaxy and try to find some semblance of peace.

“I can promise more,” he insisted earnestly, and seeing her impassive expression added, “ _please_ ,” a little more softly. 

She sighed, “Look, whatever they want with you, I don’t think it is bad. They are paying _a lot_ of money for your safe return. Clearly, this has to be better than being tortured daily.”

Ben rubs the purpling flesh on his forearm protectively, muttering, “There are somethings _worse_ than beatings.”

Rey frowns at the statement but isn’t given much time to consider it when the ship’s alarms blare. “Shit, shit, shit,” she turns as the ship shakes, from the sudden arrival of a much larger, much more menacing battlecruiser.

Ben leans over her chair as she sits to maneuver the ship away, out of the view. Hoping to make the jump before they notice them, for they would surely not out pace them in a pursuit. “Do you think they spotted us?” Ben asks.

She clenches her teeth, steering the ship closely underneath its stern, “You better hope they haven’t.” She swore to herself, she had known this rescue had been _too_ easy. Too easy for the price that General Organa, arguably one of the most powerful and influential people in the galaxy, was willing to pay.

She attempted to cloak the ship, and the freighter groaned in effort, blinking on then off. “BB-8! Repair the cloaking shield, now!” She heard the droid scurry down the hall, in a series of hoots.

Began to prepare for a jump, when she turned to seen Ben sitting in the seat to her left. “What the hell are you doing- “

Ben had already put on a headset, and made himself at home at the com, “Shut up, I’m jamming transmissions, and trying to listen in.”

She let out a frustrated noise but did nothing to stop him. It would be _nice_ to know why this battlecruiser appeared in the middle of nowhere. She focused on keeping them out of sight while BB-8 worked on the repairs.

There was a chime, and Ben swore. “They’re trying hail us.” Rey clenched her teeth and spun the ship to keep under the haul in protest. BB-8 chirped down the hall. “Rey! We must talk our way out of this one. There is no out running them.”

Her hands itched at the controls, just to jerk Ben out of his seat in protest, but she knew it was foolish. She breathed in and held her breath, letting it out slowly as Ben watched, hand reaching to respond. “Fine,” she agreed.

He wasted no time in sending a response, and theirs was immediate, if not curious. Why was a freighter out here? What business did they have? Ben’s response was smooth, spinning a tale of being just lowly scrappers trying to make their way, when they suffered engine failure. Rey had to admit, bitterly, he had a silver tongue when he wanted to.

But, despite Ben’s efforts, the First Order insisted that they must board for inspection. Of course, the damn fascists had to have their way. Rey glowered as arrangements were made, steering the ship toward an open port, as instructed. It felt like they were willingly walking into a trap, and a sense of dread filled the pit of her stomach.

She instructed Ben, in the meantime to stash BB-8 in a panel in one of the walls. He was a droid for one the rebellion’s pilots, once. She was afraid if they found him, they’d tear him apart for information. Once he was secure, she initiated the landing sequence on the too shiny, black deck. The force field sealing them in from behind, and her stomach gave a sickening drop.

As they settled, Stormtroopers marched out of a door in two lines to greet them. Ben had made his way to front of the ship to watch. “Can you at least _try_ to look nonthreatening?” he pleaded, looking down at her deepening scowl.

“I can _try_.” She rose from her seat, moving with Ben close on her tail, to greet their guests.


End file.
